The Color Purple
by ElaEnchanted21
Summary: Complex and all together a bit zany, Jack Napier's life is no picnic. Nonetheless, who ever said highschool was easy was lying. How Joker got his scars. This is the prequel to Heart of Darkness. Please read both! Note rated M for drug abuse, language, strong violence, ect.
1. The Gray

"_In all it's misery,_

_It will always be what I loved and hated,_

_And maybe take a ride on the other side,_

_We're thinkin' of,_

_We'll slip into the velvet glove,_

_And be jaded." ~Jaded, Aerosmith_

As a child, I remember spinning around and around again just to feel some sort of head rush. Tables and walls would blur around me until it was just a painted canvas of swirled and mashed colors. And just when it would climax to a mind numbing point, the world of the downward spiral would collapse until nothing was left but black. That is what love is like. That is what _life _is like. Love is something we come back to over and over again just to feel some sort of rush. To feel something besides an emptiness. And in this emptiness, we find something in ourselves that only that can teach us. How to stand up, wearily and with dizziness like no other, and move forward one shaky step at a time.

My father always said that human kind is always at it's finest when the odds are against them. I find it funny how I'm sitting here and thinking the very opposite. _What a bunch of pigs. _I thought, a dull headache thudding in the back of my head. It felt like a razor blade was being rocked back and forth near my spine as my frown deepened. This was my normal diagnosis during my time in school. I could stand the words, the ugly words that cut like knives. Nonetheless, it was the stares that got to me. It was like an unruly heat that burned at my skin or even a stone being thrown at my head, only to leave a trail of blood or a purple and blue bruise. That is what the stares were like. They irritated and irked me like no ones business.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my head nonchalantly beneath my tightly wound fist. My indifferent glare was on the teacher as I tried to ignore the attentive eyes on me. His eyes were brown I knew that enough, but I didn't dare to look further into them in fear that I would snap. He sat back in his chair lazily staring me down and though I wanted to make a witty comeback or even glare back at him. I didn't. I just acted like nothing ever happened. Just like I always did. Minutes dragged on like hours, time inching forward ever so tantalizingly slow. But I knew that for me, the only way to stop the stares, were to get as far away from them as possible.

"So what are you doing this weekend?" Said Sam as we waited eagerly for the dismissing bell to sound off our freedom.

I looked down at the discolored Chuck Taylor's that had once been white, but were now a hodgepodge of soot and black ink. "I don't know." I said simply.

The fact was that I _did _know. One; because I had been doing the same thing since the beginning of the year and two; because my "friends" were too busy with their own lives to even consider spending it with me. "_Well, _you are coming to the party, _right?" _

I could feel a snide remark well up in my chest as I looked over to the bland teenaged boy who I called a "friend". _Ha, some friend. _I thought glaring at the boy who was about four inches shorter than me. Just then, the bell rang. Nonetheless, it was the first time I had smiled the whole day.

I started to walk out of class when Sam called out my name in protest. Looking over my shoulder at him, I sneered. "I _might. _But don't get your hopes up, Kapish?"

Sam scoffed and shook his head. "Yeah, I got you Jack."

I would have ran out the doors with the rest of the crowd if it wasn't for the lustful stares of the adoring women that lined the lockers one by one. I couldn't help but feel like they were trying to sell themselves to me. Though it was tempting to tell them to work it somewhere else, I simply wanted to go home. With my bag tucked underneath my shoulder, I nearly jogged my car.

I wasn't surprised to find my house uninhabited for it almost always was. I kicked open the door and threw my keys on the table right next to the door. My old shoes squeaked over the polished hardwood floors as I bounced up the winding stairway to my room. In the beginning I hated the level of quiet that had settled in my parent's absence, but as time went by I got so used to it that I actually _preferred _it. I opened my door easily and collapsed onto the queen size bed in the middle of my room. It felt good to stretch out my limbs and as I worked my feet back and forth I felt a sweet pop give away. Small amounts of sunlight fluttered in from the cracks of my windows, just barely illuminating the chipping paint of my off white ceiling. It was then when I let my mind drift off, for it was the only place I could escape to that wasn't half as bad as reality.

_Ice lined the streets of Gotham. It covered and unraveled itself over everything, leaving nothing but cold concrete and unforgiving steel. I didn't know why I was walking through the Narrows; let alone where I was going. But no matter how hard I tried to stop myself from walking too far, I just kept walking. Snow fell lifelessly to the ground. The sound soft and barely audible, yet somehow beautiful. It was then when the beauty was shattered as soft sobs mixed with pained moans were poured out into the night. "S-stop!" She cried, her dainty little hands flying up to protect her face. _

_"YOU LITTLE BITCH! We wouldn't be flat broke if you weren't alive!" _

_His hand quickly turned into a fist just as it made contact with her cowering body. With one small grunt she whimpered back into the trash that was lined against the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I'm alive." _

_She sobbed harder, her back arching as tears raked through her body. His face turned sour as he grunted in satisfaction, leaving her among the trash. I watched her in odd fascination as she sat there for some time. __**Isn't she cold? **__I thought, remembering just how bitter the weather was. I watched as her dark curls shook around her shoulders, but as she looked up. I realized just who she was. __**Leila Wellington. **_

You know how sometimes people say you wake up gradually after dreaming? Yeah. No. That isn't what happened to me. Right after I woke up from that dream I was wide awake to the point where it was scary. Why was Leila Wellington of all people in my dream? That was one of the questions that swam through my head, though there were many more. I did _not _want to think about it though. So, I shoved the thought aside and made my way to the bathroom down the hall. Stripping down to nothing, I turned on the shower, making sure that it was steaming hot.

I didn't know why it was getting to me so much, but all I wanted was searing hot shower. One that would make me forget about the cold frigid air of that dream.

I got out of the shower with my skin an unforgiving shade of red. My hands worked fast to find a towel from the rack as I wrapped it around my waist. However, as I picked up my dirty clothes, I stopped and stared at myself in the mirror.

The boy in the mirror gazed over me with one eye brow raised. His chocolate colored eyes looked glazed, his chiseled jaw line almost flaccid from the harsh lights. His long blonde hair fell limply around his shoulders as his gaze fell over the scar over his arm where his dad had threw a knife at him. Even so, I was still thinking about my dream. I kept replaying its contents over and over through my brain. That is when a sickening thought came to mind. _Maybe I should go to the party. _I thought watching as Jack sneered at me in the mirror.

"Alright Jack." I said staring at the man in the mirror. "Time for some fun."

_**Hello everyone! So I decided to write another fan fic but this time it is Jack's POV in its entirety. Now, this is the story of the Joker before he got his scars and then afterwards when Leila left. I had some really good ideas and I just starting writing. I couldn't help myself. If you just found this please take a look at Heart of Darkness. It's not my best work (because some of it is rushed) but it's still a good story. Enjoy/ comment. Thank you! ~ELA **_


	2. The Isolation

"_Give me a pen,_

_Call me: Mr. Benzedrine,_

_But don't let the doctor in,_

_I wanna blow off steam."_

_~20 Dollar Nosebleed, Fall Out Boy._

Life was an unending pallet of grays. There were no sweet blues or passionate pinks. All that was left were shades of dull grays. The only season that felt right was winter and maybe the reason why is because that is the only season where the colors are always the same. White, black and gray. Though it wasn't winter just yet, each day was the same. I didn't see the violent colors of stark orange and fierce reds, only ugly gray.

My car hummed at the stoplight as I took another drag of the cigarette that was dangling from my mouth. I had an uncharacteristic pucker to my lips, my eye lids heavy but underneath, my eyes darting from place to place. I _hated _driving through the narrows. Even more so at night, but of course, I had decided to go to the _damn _party. _God damn you, Sam. _I thought glaring up at the red light. My fingers tapped at the steering wheel as the car lurched forward at the very sight of the green light. Moving made it a little better, but I was still anxious to get to my destination.

I knocked on the door to where the party was, hearing the loud booming stereo pulsing from behind the door. It was then when time went in slow motion.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH! Look at what you did!?" The voice echoed from the alleyway leaving a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Something told me not to go back there but I did anyways. I stood where I could see, but wouldn't be caught easily. His hands moved to her face, beating at it mercilessly. The sound of his fist making contact with the side of her face was so loud that it made even me flinch. But not her. No. She sat there her face void from any pain, just staring up at the man with dull eyes. He grunted and glared down at her, then in one swift movement. He climbed up the fire escape up to the open window, disappearing into the deep darkness of what I assumed was his apartment.

I watched her as she tilted her head back against the walls of the ally to look up at the bright full moon peaking from beneath the heavy pre-winter clouds. Tears started to drip down from beneath her glasses as she glared harder at the moon. Bruises were already starting to form over her face, but I knew that it was none of my business. Even so, I couldn't stop from watching her. There was something about her that just drew me in for no apparent reason.

"Hey Jack! Where are you?!"

Sam's voice cut me from where I was watching her. Her head snapped over to where I was standing, and when I saw her face I couldn't believe it. Leila Wellington sat there staring at where I stood. And even with the tears running down her sullen face, I had to leave her. We were from two very different worlds.

The apartment was jammed with bodies, so much that I made me miss the cool autumn night air. "You missed a lot. _Dude,_ Marcie Herstraf starting strippin'."

"Oh. _Yeah._ Like anyone wants to see _that." _I said bitterly as we made our way to the small bar in the living room.

_"I would. _Have you seen the _rack _on that _Bitch?" _

The very word brought back the unwanted memory of what had just happened outside. I shoved aside the feeling to leave the party and started to main line Tequila. One shot turned into two until I had slammed nearly four in one minute. "Whoa Jack! Don't ya think that you've had enough?"

I glared at Sam and the other idiots that swarmed around me. A low rumble of a growl exploded from my chest. "_No. _I think that, _uh,_ that I am _fine-na." _

Sam put up his hands in defense as I turned my attention to the empty Tequila bottle. Looks like I would settle for a beer.

Human kind was even uglier when it was intoxicated on worthless drugs. Maybe that was why high school was such a big waste of time. Everything was a blurry mass of staggered movement. Even as I sat on the couch it was like that. Even though my mind was a chaotic mess of unintelligent thoughts, there was one thing that shined through the muddied comprehension. I kept thinking of the color blue. Not like the color of the afternoon sky on the sunniest of days, but like halfway melted ice on a spring pond. A shiny and wet blue that was endlessly deep. I didn't know why I thought of it. Even so, it was the only thing I thought of worth while.

"_Get up get up man,_

_Cause and effect,_

_You know the rep,_

_Some say sleep in the cousin of death,_

_But most folks sleep walk through life,_

_Eyes wide shut blinded by the big city lights,_

_Some like to take life cos they don't know the meaning,_

_Like em stick up kids, stressed out and fiending,_

_With so many pressures, we're all so precious,_

_We're all rock stars god bless us,_

_I'm feelin the rush right now like when I'm up on stage,_

_N'fa speaking loud til the crowds in a rage,_

_Pays a bonus, I got a bonus for her,_

_Limbs gripping, sweat dripping all over her curves,_

_And honey bunny don't care for the money,_

_That's why I give her me money, the irony is kinda funny,_

_Wheels squeal when the pigs fly by,_

_And like the moons gravitational pull, _

_N'fa's here to change the tide."_

I woke the next morning in the arms of a random blonde and a bitter taste in my mouth. Her skin was a honey color of tan and she smelt of Chanel no. 5. The same color that clouded my brain surfaced. Why in gods name was I so _obsessed _with the color _blue? _But it wasn't just blue either; Leila Wellington had been swarming around my subconscious. _She _in particular was the thing that I couldn't get out of my brain. Maybe it was the dream that made my brain instantaneously cling to her. Nonetheless, I wasn't sure why I was so drawn to her.

As I lied there in bed, my thoughts trying to sort themselves, while the pretty little blonde next to me clung her self to me. Her soft pale lips kissed up and down my biceps as she nuzzled her way further into my bubble. Her eyes were green, _not blue. _"You are quite a big one aren't you?" She cooed, a promiscuous smirk covering her perfectly engineered face.

His fingers started to trace my muscles that lined my arms. With every small touch, I grew more and more tense. "_Quit. Stop treating me like a puppy." _

I roughly grabbed her arm, a small growl rolling in the back of my throat. My head was killing me and the last thing I wanted was some bitch _petting me. _I watched as her pretty little eyes grew wider and she moved away from me. I moistened my lips only to get up from the bed, lumbering about irritably. Retrieving my pants and other clothes, I made a mad dash to get out of this place. After all, I had other things on my agenda.

Home was still as desolate as ever. The house shone brighter than anything. Clean off white paint coated the large walls, and honey colored wood lined nearly everything. Each window, mirror, hell even the floor was polished so well that you could see your reflection in it. Besides gambling, mother had a thing for strange art work, and so that was what lined the walls. One of my favorites was one called "hells wind" which was a picture with variations of reds and blacks. Mother had said once that it was about suffering in the worst kind of ways. Not physical, no. But emotional. At the time when she had bought it, I had thought it was a ludicrous reasoning. That it had no point. Nonetheless, I found myself starting to understand.

I had spent my time the same way ever since I could remember. Though there were a few new adjustments to my daily rituals, it was more or less the same. Besides parties, school, and anything else that fed the repetitive diurnal that consisted of my life, there were a few things that I did to pass the time. One thing was obviously what any other teenager did. They watched television. My favorite was one that American's despised and loved all at the same time. South Park. I would gather basically any food that was in sight and plop myself down on our couch. Then, with this I would send myself into a fit of laughter. Then there was the thing that I did that was a little out of the ordinary for Gotham city. I read.

Books were other words at my fingertips, places I haven't been yet but are willing to go to. When brand new, I often found that it was one of my favorite smells. The "new book" smell. I would spend hours reading over Hamlet or even something like The Cather in the Rye. It was a secret that I told no one. Nor do I intend to ever. Today there was nothing to read, not one book or poem. There was nothing to _watch _either. All that was left was god damn The Real World. I scoffed. If they wanted to see the "real world" then they should come to Gotham. Then they would see what "Real" was. Hell was nothing compared to Gotham.

I shuffled through my bookshelf, trying to find _something _to read. But everything I had read at least twice. It was then when I came to a decision. I was going in.

Gotham city library was an old building that took up nearly a whole block. Its architectural structure was a massive amount of old art. Gargoyles watched me from high altitudes as I walked into the library with my hood up and my head down. I went straight to the classical section, hiding behind the enormous columns of books. My bad mood was already starting to melt as my hand caressed the spine of a random book. I recognized the title easily. _Lord of the Flies. _It read, as my eyes scanned the books that lined the shelves. And just when I started to get comfortable and start to pick out a book, a voice came from behind me. "Ooo, I wouldn't read that."

I turned around, keeping my face low. "Why not?"

Leila Wellington stood in front of me, her hair half in her face, some of the bruises dark and vividly angry. "The Scarlett Letter? You're kidding right? Nathaniel Hawthorne goes on and on for pages about the _scenery_."

I looked down at the book and back up to her. "Really?" I said, making my voice low so she wouldn't recognize me.

"Yeah. You want to read a good book, read American Psycho."

"Is that a classic?"

She sighed and thought a minute. "No, not really. But it is quite a bit older."

I nodded vaguely, knowing that she of all people would know. I watched as she smiled grimly and walked away, her hair bouncing around her shoulders with each graceful step she took. She had been kinder than I had imagined, more _real_. But as she turned the corner and disappeared, I found myself almost panic stricken to find her.

I followed her around, and nonetheless took her advice. American Psycho was beautifully morbid (hence the name). Lurking in the shadows, I watched her as she busied herself with her work. I had no clue that she actually _worked_ here. But she did, and she was good at her job. She was kind with everyone, and she knew what she was talking about when she talked about books. It seemed that I had miss judged her.

With a handful of books, I checked out and got out of there as soon as possible. And as I walked to my car, I kept my head low and my hood still up. Who knows what kind of people were out there?

A few hours later as I sat on the couch engrossed in American Psycho, Mother and father came home. As soon as I heard the car pull into the driveway, I booked it for my room. Little did I know what would be in store for me though and the horrors I would face later in the evening.

_**Hi guys! Second Chapter! WHOA! Please keep reading, I go much further into detail. Even so, I hope that this chapter kinda shed some light on Leila and Jack's relationship. It certainly gets more interesting from here. Please comment/ like. I would really appreciate it. Thanks again. ~ELA (By the way, all of the music in these chapters are on my profile page. I hope you like my choices in music.)**_


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